Most of you will by now be aware of the 'hospital episode' via Skype, Facebook or the Parental Network but requests have been coming in for a follow-up, so I thought I'd give you the whole story.
Still staying at Matt's sister Pam's house, we sat down to a dinner of steak and salad one evening last week. Matt attacked his meal in the customary manner, that is: one that would make a gannet blush (to continue the avian theme) but three bites in he started making choking noises, whereupon he leapt up from the table and scuttled off down the garden to throw up, followed keenly by the dogs, who knew the opportunity for a bit of almost pristine steak when they saw one.
I was pretty unfazed by this, given that Matt frequently has to rush out of the room for a glass of water to help wash down the gargantuan mouthfuls he's crammed into his gob, and in keeping with my general views on this activity, I assured Pam that there was nothing wrong with him that a bit of table manners and a more measured approach to eating wouldn't cure. There might have been some pursing of lips and some heavenward glances accompanied by the odd long nasal sigh involved as well. I couldn't possibly say.
The meal continued without Matt for a few minutes until it became clear that he wasn't coming back to the table, which, with half a pound of prime beef still on his plate, was unusual. Suddenly I was overcome with pangs of guilt about my less than charitable assumptions and went in search of my poor, long-suffering husband, not only afflicted with some kind of physical discomfort but also with a harridan of a wife.
I found him in the bathroom, in some distress which he explained was due to the fact that he couldn't swallow anything. Nothing. Not even a sip of water. Pam and Mabs (Pam's husband) suggested I take Matt to the 24 hour medical centre in Taringa, but Matt was adamant that he didn't need a doctor. However, this complaint continued all night, during which time I'd Googled 'inability to swallow' and found a whole range of possible diagnoses, from getting food stuck in the oesophagus and reflux induced corrosion to indications of major neurological conditions like multiple sclerosis (!). Never one to pass up the possibility of a bit of drama, I spent the night envisioning worst case scenarios including, but not limited to, long-term care and subsequent widowhood with a bit of abject poverty thrown in. Edwardian costumes in black crepe and tear-drenched, lace-fringed handkerchiefs might have featured in my imaginings at one point. But I'm not telling.
By morning, therefore, we were both seriously wound up and on top of that, Matt was knackered and sore from retching every five minutes for 12 hours. Quite apart from the horrific list of possible diagnoses, it had been seriously hot that week with midday temperatures in the mid to high thirties and Matt was losing quite a bit of fluid without any means to replenish it. We decided that at this stage, we'd need to go straight to an A&E department, so after Mabs gave us the details for the nearest public hospital, I drove Matt to the Royal Brisbane, while he spat into a bowl and gave me driving directions.
At the hospital, they took him in straight away and did all the preliminary tests etc. It's the quietest A&E I've ever seen! He was seen by no less than 5 medical staff and 2 administrators in less than an hour and other people were rallying round, asking if anyone wanted a spare trolley as there was a bit of a glut of them, apparently. Meanwhile they put him on a saline drip to counter dehydration. They were also really keen to give Matt some anti-nausea drugs, despite his repeated assurances that he didn't feel nauseous, and was only retching to avoid choking on his own spit. Nevertheless, it appeared that everyone walking past his bed felt compelled to offer him some, until one of the resident medics got impatient and gave him a drug to relax his oesophagus which she assured him WOULD make him feel sick, much to the relief of everyone in the department, as they'd finally get to shift the surplus of anti-nausea drugs.
Within about an hour and a half a chap from gastroenterology had come down to assess Matt and confidently announced that it was probably just a case of a bit of steak stuck in his gullet and they'd have it out in no time - well, at least by 5 pm. But by 1.15 he'd had an endoscopy under general anaesthetic and was being wheeled back out to recovery. The nurse attending reported on the size of the bit of steak with relish (by which I mean that she relished the reporting; not that there was relish on the bit of steak). I sneaked off for a sarnie and a coffee downstairs and was called by the nurse 20 minutes later saying that Matt was ready to go.
When I got back upstairs, I found Matt looking exhausted and not a bit sheepish, surrounded by nurses giving him lectures about the importance of taking smaller bites and chewing food properly. They also gave us pictures of the procedure and prescriptions for meds. In the light of all the grief he was getting from the medical staff, I laid off adding my own lecture to the mix for like ... a whole three hours or something. Matt slept off the whole episode properly and woke with a sore throat and a cold, which we treated with Weis Bars (an ice-cream bar half vanilla flavoured; half mango sorbet flavoured), Panadol and Berocca.
And THAT, children, is why you should always eat slowly and chew your food! (Not quite in the same league as Struwwelpeter, but still...)
He is now fully recovered and we're now house sitting for a week at the house of one of Matt's mum's friends. The tenancy we thought we'd got for our flat in Glasgow fell through, so we're still looking for tenants. Meanwhile we've been told by letting agents here that it's unlikely we'll secure a list without proof of ongoing income. I think if we were to do this again, (GOD FORBID!) and if we were going to be sensible about it, we'd get the native with the family connections to go on ahead and get a job before the other one followed on. But then when have either of us ever done anything sensible?! All our efforts are now therefore on the job hunt. Any developments on this score, and I'll be sure to let you all know.
TTFN
Mary
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